When She Loves
by Wings-of-Sapphire
Summary: They were not perfect for each other. Or soulmates. In every possible way they were two completely different beings. And yet, in their own perfectly imperfect way, they love each other.


**Once again, I openly admit that I am schmoozing you people. T**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of the characters used in this story.

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It wasn't a fairytale, Sakura Haruno knew that much.

He didn't rescue her, or sweep her off her feet. There really wasn't anything to save her from in the first place, she had battled her demons and won. She could hold her own on a mission and even heal the others up afterwards.

She had always expected a fairytale, something completely and utterly perfect.

She hadn't even known that he was interested in her until he saw the paintings. The drawings. The sketches. The notebooks filled with artwork. All of her.

It had been an accident, the rest of the team had left the training grounds and she noticed that he had left his sketch pad behind. She had just wanted to be nice, so she went to pick it up, and noticed the newly drawn charcoal strokes that made up an image. The image of her, her fist raised in the air her body twisting out of the way of an oncoming weapon. Her arm dropped to her side, her hand lightly gripping the pad in her hand not wanting to drop it. It had been drawn that day.

Anger swept through her like the tide. How _dare _he! He called her ugly, and then he went and drew something like this!

So she ran like a lunatic to his apartment and hit on the door, after the second time she just kicked it in. And he stood there, paintbrushes in his hands looking at her a bored expression on his face, as if he had been expecting her to come in like that the entire day, "Hag, you could have waited. I suppose someone as ugly as you was never taught patience."

And something inside of her snapped, she stomped over to him putting up the pad in his face, "What is _this?_"

He looked at it, his expression not changing; he didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed.

"_That_," He said, pointing to the sketch with a paintbrush that had pastel pink on the tip, "Is my sketch pad."

"No, you idiot! The drawing!" she yelled, dropping the pad to the ground, he snatched it from the air and it was now in his arms, tightly closed. Covering the picture.

His expression looked almost thoughtful, almost as if he didn't know how to phrase something, that had never stopped him before, "A picture of you."

She could feel her eye twitching, "Why did you draw it?"

He didn't blink, "Because I wanted to." He still held paintbrushes in his hands, grass green and dark red covered the brushes in color.

"Have you drawn me before?" The question was quieter than the others, subdued. Thoughtful.

"Yes."

"How many times?"

"I don't recall the exact amount…"

"Just answer the question!"

He frowned, "Look around, Sakura."

And she did. There was her answer.

Half drawn sketches and colored paintings. Her sitting, her laughing, her fighting.

Her mouth dropped a bit but she controlled herself.

His frowned deepened, "For sometime now, I can't draw anything but you. And when I try it doesn't feel right. I blame you."

She looked at him in disbelief. Was he _kidding? _"It's not my fault!"

He sighed as if she should be getting this, "It _is _your fault. You're the one that's making me draw you."

"I'm not _making _you do anything!"

He stared at her questioningly, "Then why do I do it?"

She stared at him, "I don't know, Sai. I really don't know."

Even though she did. She didn't say a word, wanting him to figure it out for himself.

They sat together all that night as he painted her, finally having her as a willing model.

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After two weeks she started dropping by his apartment everyday, and he would show her more paintings that he had done. They had found that when she actually was aware of when he was drawing her, he could draw other things again.

So he showed her landscapes and birds and flowers.

And when they went to train it would be just like normal, "Hey, Hag, your ugly head is in my way."

"Shut up, you bastard!"

Like nothing was different. Like nothing was changing.

That is, until the day when he said it, "Sakura come look at this sketch."

Everything seemed to stop. Of course he said this on the day when Team Gai had come to train with them. Of course he said it when there were witnesses. And for some reason, she didn't care.

She walked over to the spot where he was sitting, "What is it?"

He held up the pad, "The desert."

She sunk down next to him, seemingly oblivious to the stares, "It looks just like Suna…"

"Of course it does."

She slapped his shoulder without taking her eyes away from the drawing, "Can I keep this one."

He ripped the page away fro the book, "Take it."

It was only then that they noticed the looks of their comrades.

"What the hell! Sakura-chan, when did you start being nice to _him?" _

And then all hell broke loose.

Kakashi was beside her asking if she was okay, Naruto was screaming at Sai to back away from 'his' Sakura-chan, and Sasuke was just glaring. Now Team Gai was different, they knew how much the two didn't like each other but didn't know to what extent.

But Lee was crying at the loss of his youthful blossom. Neji was indifferent, or at least he looked indifferent, TenTen saw the threatening glare he shot Sai when he thought no one was looking. TenTen found it amusing. And Gai was screaming something about youth.

Sai looked over at her, "I now know why we never told them." He smiled at Naruto before making a crude comment about his… manliness.

"_Now you get it."

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A week after that incident they were both sitting in his apartment, him painting, she talking. The way it was now.

"Hag, give me the jade." He put his hand out and she placed the light green bottle into his hand.

"Hey, Sai?"

"Yes?" His eyes not leaving the canvas, but she knew he was listening.

"Did you ever find out why you paint me?"

He didn't blink, "Yes."

She furrowed her eyebrows, "What was it?"

"I love you."

It was not a declaration. But a fact. So simply said.

She leaned back, "Yeah, I love you too."

And there they were, completely and utterly imperfect.

It was not a fairytale, Sakura Haruno knew that much. She also knew as they sat there together, doing nothing but being together, that it was something so much better.

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